


The Lies I Have Created

by elizaye



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Mark of Cain, Reunions, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaye/pseuds/elizaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years and years down the line, Dean puts down his blade. He doesn't kill anymore, nor does he hunt. Now, he tells stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lies I Have Created

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few days ago to celebrate [my blog](http://imnotleavinherewithoutyou.tumblr.com/) turning one year old! Happy reading:)

Starting the conversation was like getting pulled into little pieces. Dean had no idea how he was supposed to tell Cas to leave, not after he was finally here. After he was finally home, where he belonged. With Dean and with Sam, with his family.

But Ezekiel said that it was the only way that he would stay, so it was a conversation that had to be had, no matter that Cas was happily eating a burrito, completely oblivious to the fact that Dean was about to kick him out.

And he wouldn’t even be able to tell him why, not without telling him that an angel was riding around in his brother.

So he steeled himself, went over, and sat on the table to tell Cas that he had to—

"But Cas doesn’t go, right?"

Dean blinks at the interruption and looks over. “What?”

"Dean doesn’t make Cas leave, does he?" Emily is asking from where she’s seated cross-legged on the carpet.

"Dean  _loves_  Cas. Please say Dean doesn’t make Cas leave,” Simon chimes in.

Kids are scarily perceptive motherfuckers, Dean can’t help but think. Sighing, he says, “Sorry, kids. That’s just the way the story goes.”

"You mean Cas  _leaves?_  But where will he go? He was a bum!” Cary protests, shooting to her feet.

"Hey, hey, hold your horses. We’re not done with today’s story, yet," Dean says, gesturing for her to sit back down. That’s a rule—during story time, no one stands up. But Cary stays stubbornly standing, glaring down at Dean as though everything is his fault, which. Well, this bit  _was_  his fault, so… fair enough.

"But if Cas leaves, then this story sucks," Simon says. "Does he come back?"

"Eventually. Now do you want to hear the conversation or not?"

Cary sits down begrudgingly, and Dean relates the rest of the scene to them—the look of surprise and disbelief on Cas’s face, the confusion, the betrayal and anger that he felt. He tells them about Dean’s guilt, and about how he knew that Cas had to hate him for what he’d done.

He wraps up with Cas packing whatever meager belongings he had in a small knapsack and hitting the road, with Dean hiding in his room, unable to watch because his friend was leaving, and it was all his fault.

"Damn right, it was his fault."

"Lucas, language," Dean chides. Then he says, "And that’s all for this time."

There’s an uproar, as expected, and the twenty-some kids come rushing at him in protest, the way they almost always do when story time is over.

"Hey, hey!" Dean says, voice raised to make himself heard. "Same time tomorrow, kids. Your parents are probably waiting outside for you already. Go on. Don’t make me make you."

They part with some reluctance, though Emily lingers a moment longer than the others, tugging on Dean’s sleeve and saying, “Mr. Campbell, why couldn’t Dean just tell Cas about Ezekiel? He wouldn’t have told Sam if Dean asked him not to.”

"Oh, Emily, you can’t know that."

"But I  _do_. And I know Cas wouldn’t have blamed him either. Not even for kicking him out, like a big jerk,” Emily says. Dean doesn’t even have the heart to scold her for language. “Cas could never hate Dean.”

Dean forces a chuckle. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

"But you know the story," Emily persists, eyes widening a little. "You have to know that Cas loves Dean."

"Sure," Dean says, just to get her off his back. He knows that Cas loved him, at some point. But  _loved_  is the key word. There’s none of that left, not anymore. Dean made sure of that himself.

Emily smiles, and she hugs Dean’s arm before turning and running for the door. Her mother is just outside the glass door, and she smiles and waves at Dean before taking Emily’s hand and leading her away.

Dean shuts his eyes, unwilling to get up just yet.

"Campbell," a familiar voice says, and Dean thinks his heart actually stops in his chest for a second. He hadn’t even heard the door open, but then, it’s not like he has a bell on it or anything. "I haven’t heard that name in centuries."

Dean swallows hard and keeps his eyes closed. “Yeah well, you cycle through all the names in the book, one’s bound to come up again,” he replies. Licking his lips, he inhales deeply, but… god, he can’t smell it anymore. The electricity in the air, static-y and crackling with power, that used to hit his veins and make them boil.

Disappointment twists his gut, because it’s not real; of course it’s not real. He’s imagined this so many times, and—

"Hello, Dean."

Dean opens his eyes, and his breath catches in his throat, because yeah, it’s still Cas. He’s… he’s in boots, blue jeans, and a white button-up, and that outfit just… brings up all sorts of memories. The top few buttons are undone, showing a tempting vee of Cas’s skin and a hint of his collarbones, and it’s like he knows what he’s doing. Of course he knows what he’s doing. Dean  _told_  him to dress like that.

"So you ignore a guy for centuries, and then it’s just  _hello, Dean_. That’s all you got.”

But he supposes it’s what he deserves. Fuck it all, he knows that he almost killed Cas, that he fucked up real bad that day. He’d been so high off the victory, so hyped up on the blood splattered all over the fucking place, that he’d wanted to kill every living thing in sight.

And then he’d heard it, heard  _Cas_ , heard him saying that it was all going to be okay, that Cas was here if Dean needed him, and fuck, fuck, he’d become  _Dean_ again, and in that moment, he’d looked down and seen a bloody mess of a face, wings spread out wide, misshapen and twisted, all sorts of wrong.

It had been him. All him.

"I… never ignored you," Cas says, which is a load of bullshit. Of course he ignored Dean. Dean almost  _killed_  him.

"Cas, why are you here?" Dean asks tiredly. He’s done with this. If Cas is here to finally get some closure, to tell Dean how much he hates him, then Dean just wants him to get it over with. It’s been an obscene amount of years, and Dean thought that everything had healed over, but seeing Cas again… god, it feels like it all happened just yesterday.

Telling the story to those kids, that’s easy. But seeing Cas is just… a whole different ball game.

"I’ve been searching for you."

Dean gets to his feet. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re an angel.” Cas flinches, and yeah,  _gotcha_. “And don’t even try to talk about the carving you did on my ribs, because I prayed to you. I know that that works. You never wanted to find me, because if you wanted to, you could have.”

After a pause, Cas says, “By the time you were… well enough to pray to me, I’m afraid I didn’t have the ability to hear you, anymore.”

"The hell does that mean?"

"It means… it means that I could not heal properly, after the damage inflicted upon me."

Well, fuck. It was even worse than Dean had thought. “Why are you here, Cas?” he repeats.

"Because I’ve been searching for you," Cas replies, matter-of-fact. Then, straightening his back as though he’s bracing for a fight, he says, "Dean, I’m not an angel anymore. For good this time."

That has Dean drawing up short. “Wait, what? You—you just said that you didn’t heal up right, but you’re still alive,” he says, frowning. “It’s been… it’s been hundreds of years. If you went mortal after I almost—after what I did to you, then you could’ve lived like ten lifetimes by now.”

"I never said that I was mortal," Cas answers, stepping toward Dean.

Dean wants to back away, but his feet stay firmly rooted right where they are, like his body isn’t his to control anymore.

"After you left, I spoke with Sam," Cas says, and Dean bites his lip, because oh god,  _Sammy_. He gets so detached during story time, almost like that shit didn’t happen to him, but now, now it’s real, and it still hurts. “About the Mark,” Cas goes on. “About its consequences and about its hold on you.”

"Cas—" Dean tries, because he’s far too close for comfort, now.

"I promised him that I would look after you. I’ve failed in that for so long," Cas says, lifting a hand to reach for Dean, "but I’ve found you again. I won’t let you scare me away."

His hand comes into contact with Dean’s cheek, and Dean feels a ripple go through him, straight to his right forearm. His hand flies up, grasping Cas’s wrist, but Cas only meets his eyes, doesn’t resist. Dean tugs his right shirtsleeve up, and sure enough, it’s there, angry, shiny, red.

"Cas," Dean says, voice shaking.

"I’m sorry, Dean. I had to."

"Fuck, you—you fucking  _moron_. Why would you  _ever_ —”

"To feel your pain, Dean. To share it," Cas answers.

Dean can only gape at him, because Dean didn’t know what he was signing up for when he accepted the Mark, but Cas, Cas definitely knew. Hell, he’d almost been killed by it. By Dean.

"Dean," Cas says, gently brushing Dean’s hand off his wrist and returning his fingers to Dean’s face, running them along his cheek until he’s cupping Dean’s jaw with his wide, warm palm. "I would have thought that it’d be obvious by now, but I love you, in all possible ways. I think I loved you long before I knew it. Don’t push me away, Dean—I need you as much as you need me."

"Fuck," Dean whispers, shaking his head and stepping forward, tugging Cas into his arms and just pressing their foreheads together. "Cas, you’re so stupid. How could you be so fucking stupid?"

"We are all fools in love," Cas says, quietly, gravely, and Dean feels a pair of lips press against his, soft and dry.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the lack of uploads, lately. Work is ridiculously engrossing and also I'm working on a couple projects simultaneously, so. Gah. I'm horrible.
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked this at least a little.


End file.
